Are You Wearing My Shirt?
by DarkElements10
Summary: Prompt from tumblr: "Are you wearing my shirt?" for pre-relationship Kendall/Riley,


**Are You Wearing My Shirt?**

**By: Riley**

**Summary- Prompt from Tumblr: ****"Are you wearing my shirt?" for pre-relationship Kendall/Riley**

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The smell of paint twitched up Kendall's nose, making him back away and turn his head, pressing his face to his shoulder to breathe through his sleeve. When he finally was clear, he looked back at the wall before him and shook his head as he looked over the large hole in the wall once more.

One too many trips down the swirly slide.

He should've known his mom wasn't kidding when she said, "Next one who goes through the wall is fixing it."

But _he _wasn't the one who went through the wall, his _hockey stick_ did. Okay, he was a bit too lazy to just go through the front door, but who wouldn't use the swirly slide to enter his apartment whenever they wanted?

But to be regulated to a full day of learning how to fix a whole in the wall, gathering the supplies, then actually fixing said hole in the wall—all so Bitters wouldn't give them their third strike? That was some sort of torture. Especially when it was such a beautiful day. He could be at the beach, or out playing roller hockey, or getting screamed at by Gustavo.

"It's not that bad, Hockey-Head, don't be a baby," Riley said, lowering her arms, using her roller to smooth paint down the wall. She looked at him, tilting her head aside and flashed a teasing smile. "You'll get used to it, considering how much stuff you lot tend to break, yeah?"

"Ha ha," Kendall replied. He sighed heavily, seeing how much longer the repairs would take. Having to wait for the wall to dry and then having to do another coat. Not to mention the constant complaints about the smell and having to keep the windows open at all times. "At least Gustavo hired professionals to do it."

"That's because he knew you lot would much it up."

"Can you be a little supportive?"

Riley turned to him with wide, innocent eyes. She blinked, lashes fluttering as she asked, "Isn't that why I'm here?"

Kendall felt himself smile in response. Yes, it certainly was why she was there. He hadn't even asked for her help. He warned her about her and her siblings about not using the swirly slide to get into the apartment—it seemed to be the only way they ever arrived at The Crib—and she'd asked what happened. He sheepishly filled in the story and the next thing he knew, she was rolling up to the PalmWoods with a trunk full of supplies to repair the wall.

"I was just going to get the stuff from Bhudda Bob," Kendall remarked, when he went out to greet her, somewhat dazed at the gesture.

At that, Riley snorted and asked, "You were going to trust getting materials from Bhudda Bob?"

"Good point." Kendall took a long-handled paint brush and a few paint cans from her. "You don't have to waste your day helping me."

"No worries, mate," Riley replied. Then she brushed her hair over her shoulders and added with a smirk—of course with a smirk, "I couldn't have you fuck anything else up, yeah?"

Now, Kendall brushed sweat off his forehead and frowned as he folded his arms. Most of the day was gone, but it didn't matter. He actually found himself having fun, just as he always did when he hung out with her. Even with her thinly veiled threat, "If I get paint on any of my clothes, I'll kill you."

Kendall looked at her then, smiling and looked away when she looked back. Then he did a double take, noticing—and simultaneously wondering—that the length of the dress shirt made it appear that she wasn't wearing any shorts. (He was _not _staring at her legs, thank you very much). But then realized the shirt looked somewhat familiar to him. He tilted his head, parted his lips, closed them as his eyes squinted, then finally asked, "Are you wearing my shirt?"

"Maybe." Riley casually glanced down at the flannel that covered her arms. "I found it in the costume closet." She then gave him a funny look. "Not like you'd know the difference, yeah?"

"I might," Kendall lobbed back.

"How many different flannel shirts do you own?"

"I don't know. I stopped keeping track after the first ten."

"Do you have some sort of emotional attachment to it?"

"Oh yeah, that blood stain on the sleeve is from the first fight I got in, in a hockey game," Kendall joked back. "I knocked the other kid's teeth out and still went on to win the championship game. I'll cherish it forever."

"Do you want it back?" Riley asked, lifting her hands as if to grab the collar. Her eyebrows twitched upwards, the corners of her lips starting to pull back into a smirk.

"Not unless you can get the paint out of it," Kendall replied, looking over the splotches that polka-dotted the front and arms. He then her met her gaze and added with a smile, "And, it looks better on you, anyway."

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**THE END**


End file.
